A Mother's Wish
by Story Please
Summary: Lily Evans is dead. This small detail, however, does not stop her from watching over the living.


Forum: The Golden Snitch

Challenge: All Saints/All Souls Day

Character: Lily Evans/Potter

Written For: Illvermorny, Horned Serpent House

Word Count: 864

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A Mother's Wish

My name is Lily. My surname isn't important. It used to be Evans, then Potter. Not anymore. But, while I was alive, these things had meaning, and so I responded to it. When I was alive, I liked to hold onto my anger. It made the world seem more alive, somehow. It made wanting things at first and then getting them later so much sweeter. However, now, I don't need to want things. There's nothing to look forward, you see. It's just...this.

I've been sitting at this airport terminal forever. I don't have to eat, or use the toilet, or move if I don't want to, and when I do, the terminal gets a bit fuzzy as I wander further on down it, then I come right back round to where I usually sit. The bench is quite a lot more comfortable than the one I sat upon as a child while waiting for a flight to France. It was for my gran's funeral, and Tunie didn't want to go. My mum and dad were in a foul mood as well because, as usual, the flights were delayed due to heavy rain. The seats here are a plush, royal purple, and if I want to, I can stretch out and rest, even though I don't need any sleep. Not anymore.

But I digress.

There's a large board across from me that hangs high up on the wall with departure times spelled out in bright yellow letters and my flight— the one I have a ticket for— blinking "DELAYED" in large, red letters. It has been doing this for some time now, and sometimes I wonder if that is how it shall always be.

Next to that, there's a big screen, almost like the kind you'd find at a cinema, and upon it, the world of the living plays across it like a film. There's a remote control, at least, so I can mute it if I like. Sometimes, I'll change channels and watch to see what different people are doing. And, if I'm feeling particularly willful, I'll turn it off, even if it is only for a short time. But most of the time, I don't do any of these things.

Instead, all I can do is watch.

I watch and despair and watch some more because there's nothing I can do about any of it.

I watch what my sister and her stupid boor of a husband do to my son. I watch and I scream in vain watching my son's systematic abuse and neglect. There's a moment when he is three that Tunie holds his head under the water, but then she seems to change her mind and allows him back up, gasping for air. She strikes him across the face when he chokes and cries and vomits up bathwater on her new leather shoes. I want to be there— a ghost on his shoulder while he hunches over on the tiny bed under the stairs. I want to sing him to sleep when he allows himself to cry under the dusty, moth-eaten quilt. I want to transfigure Tunie and her whole horrible family into toads and throw them in a bog. It's better than they deserve, I know that for a fact. All of these fantasies are as useless as my ticket, though, and that almost makes it worse.

I want not to be dead. It is the first clear thought since my death.

I know it's wrong. But it's the truth. Still, I know better than to expect anything. Death doesn't work the other way round.

So I watch. I watch my boy grow until he is nearly a man. And it is at his darkest moment that he calls me to his side using the stone that Dumbledore left to him.

The earth feels like static beneath my feet. I try to reassure him, but my words falter and I fear I haven't said enough. Before I can try again, I am back at the terminal, my hand still outstretched towards a figure that is no longer before me.

I watch Voldemort die in rapt silence. I watch my son stand, victorious. I watch the war end.

I watch my son have a life.

There are children. I would have been a grandmother. The ache hits me hardest when he names his youngest after me. She has a temper not unlike mine.

Be careful what you wish for, Harry, my dear.

There are great grandchildren. And great-great grandchildren. The show I watched with despair and horror is now one that I watch with excitement and anticipation.

And then…

I hear a soft pinging sound coming from the flight board.

"NOW BOARDING." It's my flight.

Someone sits down next to me and I almost forget to react, because it's been so long since I've actually spoken to anybody at all. I turn my head slowly to look up at the person next to me, but somehow, I already know who I will see. "Harry?"

"Hi Mum. It looks like it's time for our flight."

My name is Lily, and my soul's desire has finally been granted.


End file.
